


Tea on Trenzalore and The Passage of Time

by sobefarrington



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Tea, Trenzalore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobefarrington/pseuds/sobefarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is stuck on Trenzalore without his beloved TARDIS and only a cyberman head to keep him company while he saves the planet from it's inevitable destruction.</p><p>Pre-regeneration. Additional scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea on Trenzalore and The Passage of Time

Time passes.

He’d heard it said before, but this was new to him. A firsthand experience of time actually passing. No whizzing around it, through it. Stumbling upon time as it seemed to exist, but really living it. 

He learned slowly that it was the little moments he was meant to treasure. The bouts of fighting from his bell tower were strenuous, with no one for proper company except his trusty Handles. The only person still around who understood him.

With a cup of tea to warm his hands by, he sat enjoying one of his little moments.

It had only been a few years, not quite a decade, since his precious blue box vanished into the winds of time, his only flesh and blood companion with it, and he was beginning to see it was going to be a long stake out.

His bones had settled into themselves in a way he couldn’t describe. They were still flailing and flamboyant, attracting and distracting at the same time, but they had begun to slow in their movements. Creaking and cracking with the snowfall and stiffening after a short nap. 

His soul had begun to harden along with his skeleton, finding minutes during their passage to take snapshots of his new existence and mould them into things he detested. He did his best to lock them away, but they grew more frequent with the years and the storage was beginning to cramp.

The fire kindled next to the rocking chair he’d whiddled during several thousand of the quiet moments. 

Moments.

He sat in his chair, cup in hand, and rocked to the memories of lost happiness.

Adventures he’d enjoyed in his blue box. Times and places other hims had seen and experienced. Fixed points he’d wished he could have done more about. Clara and her children and the way they’d smiled when arriving at the park. The love and dedication in Centurion’s eyes when he’d agreed to stay awake next to the Pandorica to keep his Amy safe.

His Amelia.

The uncertainty in the eyes of an eight year old that’s shed had been destroyed. 

The first face his face saw.

The heart he broke and spent so much time attempting to repair.

He rocked in his chair, fire flickering as the wind twirled about the tower. He cuddled his cup closer to his lips, tighter in his hands, sipping at the rim before letting his mind wander back.

He had learned to recall with a fondness moments of time which had been spent doing extravagant things in various places. A trick he had mastered in order to see the faces. Their faces.

Clara. Rory. Amelia. Martha. Donna. Rose. Mickey. Jack. Wilf. Grace. Mel. Tegan. Nyssa. Romana. Jo. 

Adric.  
Sarah Jane.   
K-9.   
The Brigadier.   
Polly.   
Ben.   
Jamie.   
Katarina.   
Ian.   
Barbara.   
Susan.

“Oh my dear…” 

The wind dancing around the room snatched his voice and carried it away, leaving his sentence unfinished and his mind pondering the emotion. A salted tear stained his skin as it escaped his eye and fled his face. He’d forgotten which adventure he’d let himself wander off to and for the first time heard the muddled voices of people rushing about below.

Again his bones shifted and creaked, settling into themselves as the flakes started to fall from the sky. Another storm was brewing … or being brewed. It was still hard to tell the difference between the two. He moaned as he rose from his chair, pausing as he never had before to ensure he was steady on his feet. He looked to the window first before glancing to the cyberman head he called a friend.

Handles sat on a small table, disconnected from the world. It took a moment in the cool, damp room for his eyes to boot up and recall his only command before setting it aside a moment and responding to the situation.

‘It’s time again.’

He stopped and smiled to himself.   
These moments, he thought, these are the ones I need to remember.

He smiled to Handles, the only person he could rely on and confirmed.

“It’s time again.”

He picked up his faithful friend and carried him down to the tower’s main door. Priority one was to help the people. And that’s exactly what they were going to do.

**Author's Note:**

> i was just really sad about Doctor Who tonight, and then this happened.


End file.
